Sister полностью

I knew that she was dumbing down the scientific language so that I would understand it. And I knew in its more complex version, it would be exactly the same. The trial at St. Anne’s couldn’t be responsible for both babies’ deaths.

“But it’s strange, isn’t it, that two babies have died at St. Anne’s?” I asked.

“There’s a perinatal mortality rate in every hospital and St. Anne’s delivers five thousand babies a year, so it’s sad but, unfortunately, a blip that wouldn’t be seen as remarkable.”

I tried to question her further, find some flaw, but she was silent. I felt jolted by the train, my physical discomfort mirroring my emotional state, and the discomfort also made me worry about Kasia. I’d been planning a trip for her, but that might be irresponsible, so I checked with Christina. Clearly glad to be able to help, she gave me an unnecessarily detailed reply.

I finish telling Mr. Wright about my phone call with Christina. “I thought that someone must have lied to the women about what their babies really died from. Neither baby had had a postmortem.”

“You never thought you might be wrong?”

“No.”

He looks at me with admiration, I think, but I should be truthful.

“I didn’t have the energy to think I might be wrong,” I continue. “I just couldn’t face going back to the beginning and starting again.”

“So what did you do?” he asks, and I feel tired as he asks the question, tired and daunted as I did then.

“I went back to see Hattie. I didn’t think she’d have anything to say that would help, but I had to try something.”

I was grasping at straws, and I knew that, but I had to keep grasping. The only thing that might help was the identity of the father of Hattie’s baby, but I didn’t hold out much hope.

When I rang Hattie’s doorbell, a pretty woman in her thirties, whom I guessed to be Georgina, answered the door, holding a child’s book in one hand, lipstick in the other.

“You must be Beatrice, come in. I’m a little behind; I promised Hattie I’d be out of here by eight at the latest.”

Hattie came into the hallway behind her. Georgina turned to her. “Would you mind reading the children the cow story? I’ll get Beatrice a drink.”

Hattie left us to go upstairs. I sensed that this had been engineered by Georgina, though she seemed genuinely friendly. “Percy and the Cow is the shortest, start to finish in six minutes, including engine noises and animal sounds, so she should be down soon.” She opened a bottle of wine and handed me a glass. “Don’t upset her, will you? She’s been through so much. Has hardly eaten since it happened. Try to … be kind to her.”

I nodded, liking her for her concern. A car hooted outside and Georgina called up the stairs before she left. “There’s an open pinot grigio, Hatts, so dig in.” Hattie called down her thanks. They seemed more like flatmates than a boss and a nanny both in their thirties.

Hattie came down from settling the children and we went into the sitting room. She sat on the sofa, tucking her legs under her, glass of wine in her hand, treating the place as home, rather than as a live-in domestic helper.

“Georgina seems very nice …?” I asked.

“Yes, she is. When I told her about the baby, she offered to pay my airfare home and to give me two months’ wages on top. They can’t afford that; they both work full-time and they can only just about manage my wages as it is.”

So Georgina wasn’t the stereotypical Filipina-nanny employer, just as Hattie didn’t live in the broom cupboard. I ran through my, by now, standard questions. Did she know if you were afraid of anyone? Did she know anyone who may have given you drugs? Any reason why you may have been killed (bracing myself for the look that I usually got at this point)? Hattie could give me no answers. Like your other friends, she hadn’t seen you after you’d had Xavier. I was now scraping the bottom of my barrel of questions, not really thinking that I’d get very far.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone the name of your baby’s father?”

She hesitated and I thought she looked ashamed.

“Who is he, Hattie?”

“My husband.”

She was silent, letting me have a stab at working it out. “You took the job pregnant?”

“I thought no one would employ me if they knew. When it became clear, I pretended that the baby was due later than he was. I’d rather Georgina thought I had loose sexual morals than that I lied to her.” I must have looked bemused. “She trusted me to be her friend.”

For a moment I felt excluded from the threads of friendships that bind women together and which I’ve never felt I needed because I’d always had you.

“Did you tell Tess about your baby?” I asked.

“Yes. Hers wasn’t due for another few weeks. She cried when I told her, on my behalf, and I was angry with her. She gave me emotions I didn’t have.”

Did you realize that she was angry with you? She was the only person I’d spoken to who’d had any criticism of you; who you had misunderstood.

“The truth is, I was relieved,” she said. Her tone was one of challenge, daring me to be shocked.